


You Look Like A Bad Decision

by MissMoochy



Series: MissMoochy's Spideypool Bingo Oneshots [15]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Peter Parker, Clothed Sex, Friends With Benefits, Hook-Up, M/M, POV Peter Parker, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rooftop Sex, Secret Identity, Semi-Public Sex, Spideypool Bingo 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: Spideypool Bingo Prompt: [Clothed Sex]He has no excuse for his behaviour. God, what would Mr Stark think? What would any of The Avengers think if they found out Spider-Man was screwing Deadpool?
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: MissMoochy's Spideypool Bingo Oneshots [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813951
Comments: 6
Kudos: 125





	You Look Like A Bad Decision

He has no excuse for his behaviour. This isn’t like the movies. He isn’t Spock experiencing Pon Farr and he hasn’t come into contact with any magical amulets or an exotic plant. And Deadpool hasn’t shoved a lungful of _Amortentia_ down Peter’s throat, either.

This is his choice. But it doesn’t mean it’s a good one. God, what would Mr Stark think? What would any of The Avengers think if they found out _Spider-Man_ was screwing _Deadpool?_

No. No! Don’t think about who you’re letting down, don’t think about anything, don’t—

“I can’t believe you’re letting me hit it again. You must be desperate…”

Why does Deadpool have to be so crass? Sex puns and fart noises and irritating inside jokes that only he understands. If he isn’t camera-mugging (to an invisible audience like he was on the fucking _Office_ ) he winks and wolf-whistles. A joke, he’s a walking, talking travesty of a man.

“…but never mind that. I’m gonna make you as loose as my morals!”

Peter rolls his eyes, huffs out a breath that tastes stale as it hits the inside of his mask. “Your pillow talk sucks, dude.”

“Just trying to entertain you, darlin’. Now, can you spread your legs a bit? If I don’t hurry this up, somebody’s gonna see us.”

Peter sighs but he obeys; He shuffles a bit and rises up on his knees. It is not the most dignified position, on all fours with his leggings bunched around his ankles. The lube feels cool and smooth, firm. It doesn’t melt and drip, which he appreciates. The last thing he needs is for his suit to get stained. He still intends to finish patrolling afterwards. Wade’s stupid, sausage fingers jab him and Peter winces, snarls a threat over his shoulder. Wade only has two fingers inside Peter, but they feel too big and hot, the rough, scarred digits making his skin tingle. He wonders if Wade feels much or if the scars deaden the nerves.

They are currently on the rooftop of a department store that Peter has visited a few times, mainly with May, sometimes with Harry. The cool air seems smoother up here, cleaner. Untainted by the fumes of pollution, he wishes he could take his mask off and drink in deep breaths.

Wade’s fingers curl inside him and he can’t help it; He gasps. Maybe his body was getting used to it, because he could have sworn it had hurt more the last time. Already, Wade’s fingers aren’t feeling big enough. He can feel himself clenching around them and the worst thing is, he knows Wade can feel it, too.

“So fucking _tight…_ ” Wade murmurs, his masked mouth somewhere near Peter’s shoulder. Peter resists the urge to turn his head. “Gonna get you open, gonna be so good for you…”

“Yeah, just get on with it, loverboy,” Peter growls, and he isn’t sure if he is relieved or disappointed when Wade doesn’t reply. Wade is one of the few people who aren’t disarmed by Peter’s smart-mouth — if anything, he seems charmed by it.

Wade jiggles a bit, behind him, with the clinks of zippers and the unmistakable rip of velcro. That damned suit with all it’s straps and pockets. He can picture it perfectly when he closes his eyes. The red and the black, the gleaming leather and those strangely-expressive mesh eyes.

The air shifts as Wade gets into position behind him and he knows it is so close, soon he’ll be filled, soon, he won’t have to think. For all Wade’s irritating little habits, there is something blissful about throwing yourself at the mercy of another human being. Taking everything Wade can give him, trusting that Wade knows what to do. He’d done it before, Peter is sure. How many men has Wade knelt behind, his hands gripping their hips and his cock pushing between their cheeks?

When the head of Wade’s cock nudges Peter’s hole, he eases out a long breath, forcing his body to relax. His skin feels several sizes too tight for him, he’s full of nervous energy that needs an outlet. Like a static charge that makes the hair rise on the back of his neck.

At least Wade doesn’t waste any time. He knows Peter can take it, a super-strong body with muscles like rubber, Peter can take a hard hit and still come back for more. So, Wade doesn’t give him time to get used to the feeling of his cock buried in Peter’s ass, he just fucks him, hard and dirty, quick, jerking thrusts that push Peter forward, that make him tip over so the blood rushes to his head. He manages to work a hand underneath his belly, to curl around his cock, and he brings himself off in quick tugs, spilling over into his gloved palm, slick and wet and dripping down his wrist.

Wade comes quickly, a few deep thrusts and then stops, pulls out of Peter too fast, a brief flash of discomfort. And when he’s standing up and fidgeting with endless straps and zips, he doesn’t utter a word. Doesn’t need to. He knows they’ll be doing this again, so what else is there to say?


End file.
